She Was Called Little One
by TheGirlWhoWishedAndDreamed
Summary: She had no place to go. No one would cared for her. She felt alone and unloved. Until she meets the poor Bohemains of New York's Lower East Side. This is the story of a girl who discovers the secrets of life and of herself during the outbreak of the AIDS.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hello you beautiful people! This is my first fanfic (Woo-hoo!) And I chose to do RENT because…well it's RENT! ENJOY! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rent. But, this awesome guy named Jonathan Larson does!**

Mark Cohen did not notice the strange and lonely girl until one windy afternoon in October. She was sitting on a street corner, by a pharmacist store, reading a torn-up, paperback copy of _Animal Farm _with the book nearly up to her nose_._ What made Mark take a look at her was her hair. It was a bush, he evaluated, of black curly hair and her skin was as brown as the cream-coffee he gets at the Life Café. Her hair, the way it curled on her head, reminded him of Joanne, a friend of his. She looked small too and skinny. But, he couldn't help but stare at her hair, until he finally noticed her looking at him with her book resting on her lap.

" Um, hi," Mark said hesitantly. He was afraid he might have frightened her by his staring.

She squinted her eyes at him and puckered her lips. "Were you staring at my afro?"

Mark stood there silently, with his camera, afraid that he would say something that will upset her as if his staring wasn't enough.

The girl rolled her eyes and sighed. "Don't worry, you're not the only one." She toke a hold of her book and put it back up to her nose.

Relieved that he didn't upset her, Mark pointed at the book she was reading. "Animal Farm," he said. He putted the camera to his side. "I read that in high school. Sophomore year."

The girl turned the book over and looked at the title. She seemed to be staring at each letter.

"It's good," she said turning it back to the pages. "It keeps my attention, surprisingly."

"Yeah, it was pretty interesting. But, I never liked it as much as my other classmates. I didn't really think a book about talking animals was a sort a book I would general like."

The girl looked at him, squinting again. He finally noticed how young her face looked. _13, maybe 14_, he guessed. Her eyes then shifted to the camera on his side. Her face lit up and she asked. "Are you a director?"

Mark followed her gaze to his camera and he let out a nervous laugh. "Oh, no. Not really. I'm just a filmmaker. Nothing special."

The girl, whose face was still lit, putted her book down and stood up. _Wow_, Mark thought, _She's shorter then I thought._

"Are you filming a movie, or something?" She asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"Um, not really. Sort of like a documentary, really," he replied shifting his camera to his other side.

The girl continued to stare at the camera and asked, "Is it going to be in movie theatres and such?"

"It would be cool if it did. But I doubt it, little one."

The girl looked up to him, and he began to wonder if she was studying him. Starting to feel uncomfortable, he shifted his camera again.

"I'm Mark, by the way." He extended his right hand with his camera secured tightly to his left side.

The girl shook his hands with a small smile and quickly let go with that smile turning into a frown. The girl looked down at the ground. Mark waited for her to say her name and the girl waited for Mark to say something else, so both were quiet.

"Um," Mark said unsure of what else to say.

"Your hands are cold," she said quickly, her eyes still on the ground. "Like my father's."

"Oh," Mark pushed his glasses up, nervously, unsure on how to respond to that comment. "My hands are always cold. My girl- I mean this girl who is my friend named Maureen- told me that my hands are often cold. Also, since it's already cold outside and a thunderstorm is coming-"

"There's a thunderstorm coming?" The girl's eyes seemed to be wide with fear.

"I think so," Mark said. He watched as she picked up her book and stuffed it into a brown satchel, which seemed to be coming apart. Its strap was twisted and dark brown and the bag was stained with something red, Mark couldn't really figure out.

"I need to go," she said, picking up her patched-with-rags blanket.

"I'll walk you home if you-"

"No!" The girl yelled. Mark stepped back a bit surprised by her sudden outburst. She closed her eyes and she sighed. "No. I'm sorry. I mean, I said no because… I can't go home." She shifted her eyes back to the blanket gripped in her hands and stuffed it into her satchel.

"Why can't you?"

She looked up at him for a few seconds then let out a shaky laugh.

"It's complicated," she replied.

Mark scratched his hair and shifted his camera.

"You can stay with me and my friends for awhile, if you'd like. I don't know if-"

"That'll do," she said quickly and looked at the sky. The clouds have begun to turn gray and were moving into each other to turn into a very dark sky. Thunder rumpled into the distance. Her heart leaped.

"Let's go now," she said.

Mark looked at her questionably, shrugged, and told her to follow him. She had to run to catch up with him and made sure she was close enough to him so she wouldn't get left behind. Noticing her fast walking, he remembered she had smaller legs then him, and walked even slower for her.

"You never told me your name, kid," he said passing a homeless man singing _The Bohemian Rhapsody._

The girl looked at the homeless man who was wearing a rock-n-roll T-shirt and torn up jeans with no socks or shoes. She smiled at how he belted the operatic section of the song and looked up to Mark.

"Call me, what you called me earlier. Little One."


	2. Chapter 2

Little One heard the plucks of a guitar from the open window while standing in front Mark Cohen's apartment building. When she looked up at the 5-story building, she noticed the walls were filled with graffiti and garbage was piled and spread out around the apartment. The other apartments on the block also had graffiti and garage everywhere.

"Home sweet home," Mark said opening the door to the building. Little One, while stepping inside, was immediately hit with cold air and the smell of cigarette smoke. She wrinkled her nose and wrapped her arms against her body. She soon realized wearing a tank top in the coldest season of fall in three years was not a good idea. But, she didn't have anything else to wear after she ran away.

"You'd get use to the cold," Mark said walking up the stairs. "This douchebag, also known as our landlord, turned the heat off a couple of days ago and I can hardly feel my feet. But, we light candles to stay warm."

Little One looked up to Mark and Mark looked down to Little One. "But don't worry," Mark added. "It's not that bad. You won't die or anything. Hopefully."

Little One chuckled and held herself tighter.

"I'm used to being cold."

After walking up four flights of stairs, Mark stopped at a door in a dark hallway where both of them heard the sounds of a guitar.

"That's Roger," Mark said taking out his keys to open his apartment door. Little One hugged herself and waited patiently for Mark to open the door. While she waited, she listened to the music coming from inside Mark's apartment. _It is beautiful_, she thought.

"Roger's a musician. All he ever does is play on his guitar," Mark explained while placing the key in the door lock. "Since I'm roommates with him, it can get very annoying sometimes." Mark turned the key and then opened the door for Little One. "But, I bet you will find it very enjoyable, at times."

Little One stepped in to the apartment and looked around. There was garbage inside the apartment as well as there was garbage outside the apartment. Wrappers from candy bars and open bags of chips laid across the floor as well as piles of paper and books. Also, there was a trash bin in the middle of the apartment, and what it looked like to Little One, was filled with ashes and smelled of something burnt mixed with smoke. She scrunched up her face at the burning smell and turned her attention to the figure on a blue torn-up couch.

Little One scrutinized the figure and the first thing she noticed about the man was that his eyes looked as if he hasn't slept in weeks. Dark circles rested under his eyes that made him look older then she thought he might be when she first looked at him. He didn't have the glow of skin like Mark's skin, which made Little One wonder if he have ever went outside and gotten any sunlight. She noticed there were balled up pieces of paper lying around the couch where the young man sat. She wondered if the balled up pieces of paper were lyrics he had written. She fought the urge to bend down and read some of the crumbled lyrics but was snapped out of the urge when Mark spoke.

"Roger this is Little One, Little One this is Roger."

Roger looked up to where Mark and Little One stood and for some unknown reason, when Roger looked at Little One her heart leaped.

Looking quite confused, Roger settled his guitar down on the couch, stood up, and extended his right hand to Little One. Little One looked into his eyes for a brief second then quickly looked away and shook his hand. _What's the matter with me? _Little One thought.

"Um, hi," Roger said shaking her small hands.

"Hi," Little One said avoiding his eyes and quickly let go of his hands.

Roger looked from Mark to Little One with a look of utter confusion. Finally he looked at Little One with a smile and asked her: "Is your name really Little One?"

Little One, slowly, looked into his eyes.

"That's what I want to be called."

"Oh," Roger said getting Mark a quick look. Mark shrugged behind her. "Well, welcome."

Little One nodded and looked down at the floor.

Roger stood straight and looked at Mark with a look that says, _what is going on here?_

Mark seemed to have read his face and replied with his facial expression saying, _I will explain later._

"So," Mark clamping his hands together and walking over to a small kitchen area filled with coffee filters and banana peels. "Are you hungry?"

Little One looked up and shook her head no.

"Are you sure?" Roger asked. He noticed how small she was.

"Yes," Little One said. "I ate before I met Mark on the street." Her stomach grumbled in protest.

"Well, make yourself at home," Mark said walking out of the kitchen holding a banana peel and threw it into the ashy trash bin. "And Roger, can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure thing," Roger said walking away to a bedroom. Mark followed right behind him.

Little One was left alone in the cold and wrapper-filled room what she would of guessed was the living room. She looked around for a bit and her eyes rested on a picture of Roger and some girl she never seen before. She walked to the bookcase, which had the photo of Roger and the girl. They look happy, Little One evaluated, and felt a pain of something in her heart she couldn't recognize. She looked at how he had his arm around her waist and how her body was close to his with a hand on his chest. She saw that Roger's hair was much shorter in the photo then it was now and there weren't any dark circles under his eyes. Also, the two of them were smiling; it looked like they were in front of a building, which Little One could of guessed, was the Life Café. Little One wondered who that woman was and where she was now.

Little One looked away from the photo with a twinge growing stronger. Why does this always happen every time she sees someone happy? How can this pain in her heart go away? Little One fought the urge for tears to enter her eyes because there was no need for her to feel sorry for herself.

"This is my new life now," Little One told herself. "This is my new home. And I will not think about my past life again. I'm Little One now."

Little One smiled at how funny it was to be called such a name and walked over to the couch with the guitar laying on it and looked out the window.

"It's time to forget," she told herself again. "This is my home now."


End file.
